


we fail at everything we ever even try to attempt

by orphan_account



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: 17 year old eddie/richie, M/M, Masturbation, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21692200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: richie leaves his sweater on eddie’s bed. eddie has this dumb, hopeless crush on richie.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 215





	we fail at everything we ever even try to attempt

**Author's Note:**

> they’re 17. i really wanted a fic where one of them jerks it while thinking about the other so here it is :/// someone pls write one of richie doing the same, i’d DIE. i haven’t written in so long, this is edited but only just. uh yeah... stan reddie

richie left his sweater there. richie left his sweater sitting on eddie’s bed, the hideous olive green pullover that eddie hated on him and had practically begged him to give up in the past. he left it right there, right after he brought him weed, which they had smoked hanging halfway out of the window so the smell wouldn’t hang in his room. 

after, they changed into new clothes so they weren’t suspicious. 

(eddie may have been a bit neurotic about smoking still.)

with the little shame he had left being drowned out by his enormous, pointless crush on richie, he grabbed the sweater and pressed it close to his nose. it smelled just like him, the gentle, kinda boyish hint of his soap, the clean sweat on the collar from the back of his long hair. eddie sighed. richie had been close to him all night, smelling and looking good, teasing eddie gently and even reaching over to ruffle his neatly combed hair once. 

his body felt so loose and sensational, and… fuck.

richie’s sweater still in one hand, he rubbed the other against the insides of his thighs. 

somewhere inside of him he still felt guilty about this whole act in general. part of it was that he still believed his palms might grow fur or he’d be struck by lightning if he did. the other part was that the world made him feel like he was doing something wrong when he so much as thought that richie looked handsome with the sun shining on him, upper body dangling from eddie’s bedroom window.

he brushed against the front of his shorts, spreading his legs just a little further apart. chasing that feeling made the guilt run away, replaced by warm sensitivity and the heat of richie’s cotton sweater on top of him; so big that it made him feel like he was drowning in the ugly, threadbare thing. he stuck his hand underneath his waistband, fingers against the flushed skin past his underwear with his name embroidered carefully on the tag. he sighed happily the moment he made contact, both from the friction and the way his brain conjured up richie, strong and soft and a comfortable pressure on top of him. he imagined the way richie would talk to him like he would never actually want to, telling him how good he looked and using his dumb little pet name- “look how handsome you are, eds,” he’d breathe, the familiar (but also just a little stale) smell of weed hanging in his mouth; eddie would shut him up with a soft kiss. 

he was hard and desperate in his hand as he imagined richie’s warm touch. sometimes when they hung out together he put his hand on eddie’s knee and eddie couldn’t help but think of the way that slightly calloused skin would feel on his dick, rubbing softly and telling eddie that it was cute he wanted it so badly. “don’t tell me you’re close already, spaghetti,” he might tease, never passing up the opportunity to rhyme eddie’s nickname. 

he thought about how he wanted to reciprocate, how richie might brush eddie’s hair back while he was on his knees for him, returning the favor. in his fantasy richie would fill up his mouth with just the right stretch, being so kind as to let eddie lick and kiss and ease him inside at his own pace. his breath hitched when he thought of richie’s voice catching on a moan, his self-assurance breaking down under eddie’s tongue. eddie would just open his mouth wider. he titled his head back against his pillow, his fingers moving swiftly when he imagined richie losing it, pulling on eddie’s hair and using his mouth to get what he needed. 

eddie pushed down his underwear with his free hand, gasping quietly at the cold air that gathered around him and the quick, trashy way he imagined richie coming on his face. fuck it; he already felt filthy and he was going to go all the way with it. he slowed his hand and pictured his very best friend feeling the smooth planes of his body, tugging down his gym shorts and manhandling him onto his stomach. richie’s hands on his bare thighs, the other parts of him that he wanted to hide the most. he did his best to think of himself as someone that richie might actually want, someone who wasn’t gangly and awkward and repressed and uptight. he ignored the fact that richie was currently set on asking some girl in his fourth period to homecoming and thought of himself with his face buried in a pillow, edging his knees further apart while he waited for richie to fuck him.

he didn’t know what it would feel like. he had never touched himself like that and he didn’t think he ever could. but he could fantasize about it, being open for his love, able to do that for him. he didn’t know how it would feel to have richie’s adoring eyes all over him but he wanted that too. wanted to arch his back and feel that broad chest pressed against his shoulders. he whined while he touched himself. the sweater was thick and comfortable and he rubbed his cheek in it, felt it against his chest and waist and-

well.

the fabric felt unexpectedly good and as he spread his legs for the richie that wanted him back, he nudged the tip of his cock against whatever seam it was resting on. it left him slack-jawed; it had been so long since he’d felt anything like this. richie’s scent surrounding him was even more exciting in its own right- it felt like fucking christmas. his knees shook when he came, taking richie’s ugly sweater as a casualty in the process. 

he stayed cuddled up to it for a moment before that creeping feeling that he was doing something horribly wrong caught up with him. he carefully moved the shirt aside to clean himself up, tucking his body back under his clothes and silencing some of the guilt through righteousness. it was an unstable but cautious walk to the bathroom where he rinsed it so it wouldn’t stain, then the laundry bin where he buried it under his own clothes, then back to bed where he laid on his back with his palms pressed into his eyes. 

he’d wash the evidence off richie’s sweater and return it to him, pressed and folded far too nicely for such a worn piece of clothing. he’d say something about how he almost threw it away but he knew richie liked it for some reason. maybe richie would thank him sarcastically, and maybe he’d throw an arm around eddie’s shoulder and rib him in that sweet and obnoxious way only he could pull off. maybe if eddie was really lucky, he’d call him eds. 

no matter what the real richie said to him, eddie would never really stop hoping. 


End file.
